


Siren's Call

by kyatrathequeen



Series: Monsters and Sorrow [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Human, I am going to eventually punch you very hard right in the feels, I am so very sorry dear reader, I did not expect it to go this way but oh well here it is, I know there's a word for that, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Like drama and humor at the same time, M/M, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, What Have I Done, Whump, also very funny tbh, but I don't want to look it up, but also hopefully you will do a nose exhale while reading, geralt realizes jaskier is not, in fact, inhuman!jaskier, slowburn, when I say punch you in the feels I mean sucker punch you right in the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:27:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22455724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyatrathequeen/pseuds/kyatrathequeen
Summary: Jaskier turns and runs, feet digging desperately for traction in the slippery sand. Geralt barely notices the wounds in his leg and side as he gives chase, silver sword shining in his hand. Jaskier is surprisingly fast, no doubt used to fleeing at the drop of a hat when things get rough with an angry paramour or monster. He would probably have lost a normal man in the shifting dunes, or managed to escape to the nearby forest to hide. Geralt is no normal man.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Monsters and Sorrow [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627366
Comments: 65
Kudos: 1351





	1. A Rude Awakening

Jaskier turns and runs, feet digging desperately for traction in the slippery sand. Geralt barely notices the wounds in his leg and side as he gives chase, silver sword shining in his hand. Jaskier is surprisingly fast, no doubt used to fleeing at the drop of a hat when things get rough with an angry paramour or monster. He would probably have lost a normal man in the shifting dunes, or managed to escape to the nearby forest to hide. Geralt is no normal man. Even if his mutations hadn’t given him night vision he could have easily tracked Jaskier by the strong perfume he wore, or the pounding of his frantically beating heart. As he chases the fleeing man, he contemplates calling out to him, but figures Jaskier is too far gone to terror for that to work. Anyway, he can’t waste the breath. Witcher or no, his wounds are beginning to tell on him. Jaskier is nearing the edge of the desert, and Geralt knows if he disappears into the woods he might not be able to find him again. Or, considering what those woods are populated by, he would probably find his bones. Geralt puts on a desperate burst of speed, lunging forwards to tackle Jaskier to the ground.

Approximately 17 hours earlier:

Geralt glanced over at Jaskier. If he didn’t know better, he would have said the man was in some kind of coma, hungover, or unconscious. Since he’d had to rouse Jaskier from sleep every goddamn morning since he’d started travelling with him, he did know better. Geralt seriously doubted if Jaskier would wake up even if they were attacked by bandits. Actually, he knew Jaskier wouldn’t wake up if they were attacked by bandits while he slept. It had happened. Twice. Both times he’d been more irritated that he hadn’t been awake to see the action than grateful to Geralt for fighting bandits off his prone body.

Geralt sheathed the sword he’d been sharpening, stood up, and stretched his muscles. He walked unhurriedly over to Jaskier, and took a moment to ponder the elegant picture of innocence that was Jaskier asleep. He looked very young and vulnerable and somehow not quite human, like some kind of fae that had decided to bed down by his campfire. Geralt squatted down, positioned his mouth so that it was almost brushing Jaskier’s ear, and took a deep breath.

“JASKIER! WAKE UP!”

Jaskier screamed and bolted upright, swinging his lute in a surprisingly good defensive reflex that Geralt blocked without much problem.

“GaHAAH What the HELL Geralt! Is it fucking bandits AGAIN?!” Jaskier scrambled to some semblance of a seated position, still clutching his lute in front of him protectively and glancing around wildly.

Geralt unperturbably sat back on his haunches, expression implacable. “Do you see any bandits?”

Jaskier spluttered. “Uh, no….why did you wake me? What’s going on?”

“It’s time to get going. We need to make good time if we want to reach Didith before nightfall.” Geralt turned and started walking back towards Roach, letting his mouth twitch in what was to him a roaring laugh as he could almost hear the cogs turning in Jaskier’s mind.

“You….you SCREAMED in my EAR because you wanted to LEAVE EARLY?” Geralt glanced back at him, expression once more completely blank.

“Yes.”

Jaskier’s mouth moved soundlessly before he apparently decided on the best way to express his outrage. “What a BARBARIC….Geralt you could have just VERY GENTLY called me to wakefulness, but you chose to DEAFEN ME instead. Do you know what they call a deaf bard? They don’t call him a bard that’s for sure.”

Geralt sighed. His few minutes of amusement were apparently going to come at a very dear price.

Jaskier prattled on indignantly as they moved on, even going so far as to compose a three piece ditty about the rudeness of waking someone by shrieking in their ear. Geralt was almost grateful when they arrived at Didith. At least it would give him some relative peace, since the bard often got distracted by some pretty thing or person and went wandering off. Didith wasn’t a city, but it was a fairly prosperous town, and Jaskier should be able to find plenty of things to amuse himself with. In the same vein, he should be able to find at least one person with some kind of monstrous problem, especially because Didith was dangerously close to the Landa desert. And deserts were fairly reliable for sending inconvenient monsters the way of people with money.


	2. Of Beauty and Annoyance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An excited murmur ran through the small crowd, people turning to stare at Geralt inquisitively. He glowered back at them, thoughts of Jaskier’s beauty replaced by thoughts of how he was going to get him back for this. The bard made his way over to the table next to his, expertly jumped on top of it, and began a rousing rendition of Toss a Coin to Your Witcher.

Geralt combed through the message boards of the town and talked to all the right people, but came up empty handed. Frustrated, he decided to head back to the inn where he’d deposited Jaskier and Roach. Even though it had only been a few hours, by the time he got back, he could already hear a rousing rendition of The Fishmonger’s Daughter leaking out from the opening and closing door of the inn as people went in and out. A great roar of applause went up and he could faintly hear Jaskier making some speech, which prompted more cheering. The bard might be mostly useless in any combat situation, but he had to hand it to him. Jaskier really knew how to manipulate a crowd.

He pulled his hood up over his face and hunched his shoulders, readying himself for a crowded, hot room full of people ambivalent and scared of him at best. Shouldering the door open, he stepped inside.

The first thing he laid eyes on was Jaskier, standing atop a table at one end of the room, surrounded by people and in the full flush of a successful performance. Brilliant eyes told the same story as a laughing mouth as he happily strummed on his lute. He was beautiful, Geralt realized with a shock. Not that he hadn’t objectively realized that before, anybody with eyes could see that Jaskier was aesthetically pleasing. But as he quietly moved to a lonely table at the edge of the crowd, he felt a hot stab of want. He wanted the bard. Wanted to make Jaskier smile, wanted his mouth on his, wanted to see him flushed and sweating, head thrown back in pleasure.

As he watched the rest of Jaskier’s performance, he pondered this relatively new thing going on in his head, poking at it from all sides and deciding on the best course of action. He wasn’t normally one to hesitate to act, but the thought of the bard’s inevitable smugness at Geralt admitting or acting on any kind of pleasant feelings towards him was alone enough to give him pause. As well as the fact that it was always a little awkward having a travelling companion you’d had sex with.

He was shaken out of his reverie by Jaskier’s excited voice. “And look who we have here Ladies and Gentlemen!” Geralt glanced up, shelving his thoughts in the ‘look at later’ box in his mind. Jaskier went on “It’s the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia, the man I’ve just been singing about!”

An excited murmur ran through the small crowd, people turning to stare at Geralt inquisitively. He glowered back at them, thoughts of Jaskier’s beauty replaced by thoughts of how he was going to get him back for this. The bard made his way over to the table next to his, expertly jumped on top of it, and began a rousing rendition of Toss a Coin to Your Witcher.

As Jaskier played, Geralt caught the familiar hint of Chaos that always radiated from Jaskier when he was especially into a performance. The first few times he’d felt it, he’d been convinced Jaskier was some kind of mage in disguise. He’d at first allowed him to travel with him in order to scope him out and see what kind of a threat he was. His analysis had turned up empty. Jaskier’s magic seemed to be completely natural, involuntary, and harmless. He’d tested this by surreptitiously letting him come dangerously close to being harmed by various terrifying monsters. Anyone with voluntary control over their magic, or even someone with a normal talent for involuntary magic, would have practically been forced to used it, but Jaskier had just screamed for him. As far as Geralt could tell, Jaskier simply had a slight affinity for Chaos that made his singing and playing just a little too good, and the control he had over crowds just a little more than most ordinary performers. Although, strangely enough, he never felt the slight hint of chaos when Jaskier was playing his lute around just him.

He felt the Chaos around Jaskier grow as the bard became more into his performance and picked up the pace. The crowd followed suite, practically mesmerized by the song. Abruptly, he felt someone watching him to his right. His head whipped around, piercing eyes searching. A man in the crowd stared fixedly at him, and he could see the nervous beads of fear sweat standing out on his face. He raised an eyebrow at him. The man glanced back, almost walked away, then seemed to gather his nerve and sidled up to Geralt.

He licked dry lips. “You’re the Witcher?”

“I am”

“I’m a merchant, I was taking a caravan through Didith, and well…” The man stuttered, and the fear smell roiling off him increased.

“You were attacked.” Geralt prompted gruffly. There was only one way this conversation was going to go. Hopefully in a direction that would allow him and Jaskier to live well for the next month or so.

The man swallowed and nodded. “I don’t know what it was. It moved so fast, we barely had time to react. It destroyed most of my goods, and killed five of the people travelling with me.” His voice faltered. “My…my wife was among them.”

His expression hardened slightly, and he pulled out a decent sized bag, setting it on the table with a thud. “I want it dead.”

Geralt looked through the coins, they were good, and ample payment for one monster. “Describe it for me.”

“I never got a good look at it. It moved too quickly. From what I saw it looked like some kind of giant insect, like a praying mantis.”

Geralt glanced up at the man quickly. “Are you sure?”

The merchant shrugged “as sure as I can be about anything.”

Geralt nodded. “Then this coin won’t be enough, I’ll need at least double for a job this size.”

The man looked down, then back up at Geralt. “I can’t pay that much” He indicated the coin bag “but I can pay that much upfront, and raise half that for when the job’s finished”

Geralt considered. “Fine, I’ll kill your monster, where did it attack your caravan?”

The merchant smiled in relief. “about 5 hours away from Didith, night before last.”

Geralt finished getting the details he needed, scarfed down some food, and went to collect his bard.

Predictably enough, Jaskier was having a big time. He glanced up at Geralt over the head of what was probably the one reasonably attractive young woman in the inn. “Ah! Geralt! So glad you could join me.” He gestured expansively to a chair next to him. “Have a seat, and oh, meet Dana.” Dana giggled nervously, nestling closer to Jaskier’s side. She smelled of fear and lust, cheap wine and cheap perfume.

Geralt’s nose wrinkled involuntarily. “I got a job. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

He’d made it halfway to the door before Jaskier extricated himself from Dana and caught up with him. “If you think you are leaving me behind you are very well mistaken!” he said firmly. “I am in desperate need of new material and a monster hunt is just what I need.”

Geralt opened his mouth to argue, then sighed and jerked his head. “Come on then”. If he tried to leave Jaskier behind while he was in this kind of mood he might do something indescribably stupid like try to follow him. Jaskier would be safer where he could keep an eye on him, and he was relatively good about staying out of the way.

Geralt headed out to the stables, tagged closely by the chattering Jaskier. It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so this chapter's a little bit longer than the first one, hopefully I'll be able to stick to this chapter length or longer but it just depends on how busy I am. Also I did add some romantic stuff, but more than anything I'm trying to establish the basis of their relationship. Which is that they're real good friends who annoy the absolute shit out of each other. They would take a bullet for each other but if they did they'd spend the next several years holding it over the other one's head. That is my characterization. Fight me


	3. A Miscalculation

As Geralt headed out to Roach, he could hear Jaskier behind him, like some kind of ever-present mosquito that had decided Geralt was its favorite person. He double-checked all his gear and weapons, readying the ones he would need for the fight. It was already beginning to turn to dusk, and he would need to move quickly if he wanted to take advantage of the last lingering bits of daylight to set up an advantageous position to fight the monster from.

“So what is it we’re fighting again?” Jaskier asked, curious, but strangely enough, not smelling of fear. Well, strange for most humans, not strange for Jaskier the unknowingly, stupidly, fool-hardedly brave.

Geralt sighed. “ _I_ am fighting a frightener. _You_ are going to stay with Roach.”

Jaskier pouted, there was no other word for it, and opened his mouth to protest, but Geralt turned and cut him off with the fiercest glare he had in his arsenal of quite impressive glares. Jaskier, thankfully, shut up. Somewhat less thankfully, he immediately smelled of arousal, and his body language wasn’t exactly contradicting Geralt’s suspicion as he casually moved infinitesimally closer to Geralt. Melitele’s ass, did the man know no fear? Well, he thought with a slight twinge of regret, they didn’t have time for any of that now. But, later…… He let his thoughts briefly go down a pleasant rabbit trail before he pulled himself back to the present and climbed up on Roach.

“Come on.” He held a hand out to Jaskier, who looked both surprised and gratified.

“I get to ride Roach?!” He asked excitedly. “What an honor! What a treat! My dear sir you will not-“

Geralt interrupted him by bending down, grabbing him under the armpit and hoisting him unceremoniously up behind him. “We need to move.”

Jaskier gasped, a mixture of surprise and indignation, and let out a few protests, which Geralt summarily ignored in favor of setting off in the direction of the merchant’s path that would lead out of the forest and through the desert. If he followed it till he found carnage, he would almost undoubtedly find his monster.

Jaskier, unsurprisingly, had opinions to voice. “So what, exactly, is a frightener? I mean, that’s a completely unoriginal and uninformative name. All the monsters you fight are absolutely terrifying so what distinguishes this one? Is it just _especially_ terrifying? You’ve got to admit that doesn’t give you much to go on.”

Geralt sighed. “Have you ever watched a praying mantis hunt down smaller insects?”

Jaskier paused, startled. “Well, yes, I suppose, when I was young, but what does that have to do with this?”

“Imagine a massive, heavily armored, incredibly fast, magical praying mantis hunting you like a ladybug and you will have some idea of what it is we are facing.”

There was a silence behind him and he could hear Jaskier swallow. “So…how do you kill it? Just choppity chop and relieve it of its’ head?”

“It’s not that simple.” Geralt figured if Jaskier wanted to go along with him, he might as well know the ins and outs of what they were up against. “the last time I fought a frightener I had help from other Witchers. They can be rendered helpless with loud sounds, but they’re still formidable.”

“Wait…it took MULTIPLE Witchers to take down ONE monster?” Jaskier seemed flabbergasted at the prospect. “I didn’t even know you guys collaborated, I thought you were all wandering around doing the scary death brooding loner thing.”

“We used to.” Geralt said shortly, unwilling to elaborate.

The information and lack of loquacity on the subject seemed to excite Jaskier. By the time they actually made it to the edge of the desert he had asked leading questions on the subject 9 times and referenced what a great story a “pack” of Witchers hunting together would make 13 times. Geralt counted.

He ignored him, and also chose to disregard the fact that Jaskier’s arms were clinging rather closely around his waist, even though Roach was going slow enough he probably didn’t need to hang on at all. The bard was rather a lot smoother in his songs than in real life.

Before they’d gone out from under the shelter of the trees he stopped and dismounted. Jaskier, suddenly robbed of the tight grip he had, almost fell out of the saddle and was forced to do a rather undignified scramble to get back. “Geralt?” He questioned. “I, uh, thought you said the thing was, you know, actually IN the desert.”

“It is.” Geralt pulled open Roach’s saddlebags, rifling through to get the equipment he needed.

“So then.” Jaskier asked in a faux show of patience. “Why exactly are we stopping?”

Geralt sighed. “This is as far as you go.”

“WHAT I thought…”

Geralt cut him off. “If you want to live, stay back here. I’ll be too busy fighting to save your ass.”

As he started to stride off into the desert, he heard the faint shifting sounds of someone thinking very hard about getting off a horse and following him. He stopped. “Jaskier I swear if you even think of following me I will hogtie you, leave you in that inn, and continue on my way. This is not a rule you can break and escape the consequences of with your silver tongue.”

There was a faint and indignant denial from the direction of Roach, but as Geralt continued following the caravan’s trail into the desert, Jaskier stayed on Roach and did not follow him. Good, at least the bard was smart enough to know he was serious.

He came upon the wreckage of the caravan closer to the edge of the desert than he’d expected. He unsheathed his silver sword, glancing around. Fuck. Jaskier and Roach were still within eye sight. Nowhere near far enough away to be safe. He briefly contemplated going back and shooing them farther away.

This plan, and every other one, was interrupted by a very large body mass slamming into him. As he scrambled to swing his sword at the armored mass and alien head above him, he heard Jaskier scream his name.

He’d miscalculated. The frightener had already been there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so if you play the video game you probably noticed I'm referencing that timeline a little bit. I've never played it, but a lot of it seems very cool, especially the monster encounters. I pulled the info off Witcher Wiki, and I did twist the monster and timeline slightly to fit my purposes. If you play the video game and you feel I seriously mischaracterized the monster/past encounters I'm referencing, feel free to let me know. I completely understand the desire to protect your favorite choice of media and also I am trying to keep relatively close to both the show and video game. Also, the timeline should catch up to the snippet at the beginning of chapter 1 in the next chapter.


	4. Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very sorry for the pain you are about to experience.

Geralt wildly tried to swing his sword, but was pinned down by the weight above him. He went to form Sana, the sound spell he’d meant to use against the frightener in the first place. A very calm part of his brain told him the frightener’s sharpened front limbs would impale him before he had a chance to use it. Another part of his brain wondered what it would have been like to feel Jaskier’s lips on his.

The bard. Jaskier needed to be safe. He couldn’t keep him safe. He was too close. He was going to die. Both of them were. Geralt stared up into the insect like eyes of the frightener as its limb swooped down to impale him. He would face death with open eyes at least.

A sound split the night air, earsplittingly high and loud, akin to a scream if the thing making it had a throat made of iron. The frightener screamed too. It lurched off him and started stumbling around the desert, blindly groping for an end to the pain. Geralt shot up, the claws of the frightener had grazed his leg and side, but he ignored it. There was no time to think. He ran forward and jumped at the frightener, moving to chop at its head. The sound had stopped and the frightener seemed to recover a bit. He only got one good swing in before it whipped around and threw him off.

Another scream, and he knew what was making it. It was a siren’s distress call. Although Melitile only knew why a siren would be out in the desert, he’d recognize it anywhere. A shadowy form to his left, but he could deal with the siren after he killed the frightener. They were relatively easy to kill. Geralt moved forward again, hacking and slashing at the frightener until it lay motionless.

He turned around, silver sword at the ready to deal with the anomaly of a siren.

There was only Jaskier, staring at him with a blank expression. Geralt moved towards him. “I thought I told you to stay with-“

Sudden movement behind him, and he was knocked down. He should have known better than to turn his back on a monster, even to deal with another one. Jaskier opened his mouth and screamed, the frightener moved off him and started thrashing around in the sand, and Geralt understood.

He killed it, for real this time and turned back around to face Jaskier. The bard stared at him, an unreadable cacophony of emotions flitting across his now slightly scaly face. Then he turned and ran. Geralt could hear his frantically beating heart as he gave chase, the sour scent of fear mixing in with the sweet scent Jaskier always wore. Well, that at least was explained now. He hadn’t wanted Geralt to smell that he wasn’t human.

Jaskier ran like a man running from his execution, feet slipping desperately in the sand as they dug for purchase. Geralt knew he was going to have to catch him before he got to the forest, or never at all. Once in the forest, with his wounds slowing him down, the bard would easily be able to lose him.

He put on a burst of speed, and tackled Jaskier to the ground. He struggled desperately, fighting to break out of Geralt’s hold. Geralt bracketed him with his knees and threw an arm across his chest, keeping him down with his weight.

Abruptly Jaskier stopped his futile struggling and went very still, staring up at Geralt. He could hear his breathing as he rasped in and out, on the verge of panic. His face was back to that of a normal human, no more scales along the edges. With a shock, he realized Jaskier was crying.

“Geralt…” Jaskier’s voice was little more than a whisper. “Geralt please, let me go, I’ve never hurt anyone I swear.” His voice was choked off with a sob before he managed to shakily resume. “You’ll never see me again, just please let me go.”

Geralt was silent for a beat of his slow heart. He felt pain and remorse coiling up in the pit of his stomach from seeing Jaskier like this, but there were things he had to know. “What are you?”

Jaskier sniffed and closed his eyes, choking out. “I’m…I’m…the humans call me a siren, I think.”

Geralt nodded. It was what he had thought. “Why were you traveling with me?” A thought struck him and his hand tightened on his sword. “Were you trying to scope me out? Find out my weaknesses? Or find out information about the other Witchers?” He’d known the bard couldn’t possibly be travelling with him because he enjoyed his company, and the excuse that he wanted to write songs about him had been a poor one. He narrowed his eyes at Jaskier.

“No!” Jaskier said, his heart rate accelerating. “No I would never, I swear! Geralt I just wanted to travel with you to have adventures and songs to sing! That’s all I wanted.”

Distantly, Geralt realized it didn’t matter if he believed Jaskier or not. It was too dangerous. He’d lied to him once, very successfully, he could do it again. The bard could be in league with any number of people or monsters. They could have just been manipulating him. Trying to get him to trust Jaskier only for him to turn on him. He glanced at the sword in his hand, then back to Jaskier.

He knew what he should do as a Witcher

But….Jaskier had saved his life. He hadn’t had to, he could have let Geralt die. And Geralt remembered a thousand other times. Listening to the bard as he prattled on innocently about nothing and everything, the fierce defense he had mounted against the name of “Butcher”. The light of a tavern as it caught a smiling pair of brilliantly blue eyes. A smile. A laugh. A joke. A song.

He couldn’t kill Jaskier, and the thought filled him with sudden relief.

The man under him seemed to mistake his long silence for something else. He swallowed hard and looked up at him, face suddenly very calm, although still tear streaked. “I know what you have to do Geralt, just….be quick. Please.” Jaskier tilted his head back in a gesture of surrender, giving Geralt easy access to his throat, and closed his eyes.

“No.” Geralt slowly got off Jaskier and stood up, sword still in hand.

Jaskier looked up at him warily, frozen to the ground.

“Get up.” Geralt’s voice was hoarse, grating. He wanted nothing more than to take the bard into his arms and reassure him over and over again that it didn’t matter what he was, he’d never hurt him. He hated himself for what he was about to do.

Jaskier slowly got to his feet, looking at him with something akin to hope in his eyes.

Geralt walked over to Roach and pulled out his money bag. He tossed it to Jaskier, who caught it automatically. “Go back to town. Buy a horse, and leave.”

“Geralt. No. I don’t…” Jaskier’s voice was pleading. “I’m sorry. Don’t make me leave you.”

“I am showing you mercy. Understand that and leave.” Geralt fought to keep his face neutral.

Jaskier said nothing more. He slowly trudged his way back along the path towards the town.

Geralt watched him for a few seconds, then went back to the frightener to loot its corpse for potion ingredients. He would need to give Jaskier a head start of at least a day. Then he would find a caravan to go across the desert with. The pain of losing Jaskier would pass, and this was the best path for both of them. He would keep telling himself that until he believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am going to make this part of an at least two-part collection. If you want more to the story, don't worry, it's not actually over yet. ;) I didn't actually originally intend for it to go this way, but now I've gotta write a sequel fic to it.


End file.
